


boorishness in sheep's skin

by lustalvania (Voidromeda)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Humiliation, Insults, M/M, Out of Character, Pre-Time Skip, Scent Kink, Sweat, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 00:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21065561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidromeda/pseuds/lustalvania
Summary: On an unfortunate night, Dimitri confirms to Felix that he is truly as much of a boar as he thinks him to be.Kinktober Day 16 || Olfactophilia (scent)





	boorishness in sheep's skin

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is.
> 
> I don't know why I characterized them this way.
> 
> I'm sorry.

It is almost disgustingly fascinating how much of a boorish oaf the prince is, despite all his attempts to be anything but – Felix, oh how he has known him for _years, _can pierce straight through that fake, noble exterior of his and see Dimitri for who he truly is. In a way, it is intoxicating to know the prince in a way that no one else shall; but in another, it is _repulsive _how he tries to be human, pretending not to be disgusting filth who slinks away at night to fulfil his animalistic desires. His instincts are what drive him, not his human reasoning.

After all, why else will Felix head off to the laundry room late at night only to catch the prince in an act so foul, to see him dropping the training garments of the professor and of von Riegan in shock at being caught? The garments he drops – vests that are thick enough to keep from mortal blows from ending trainees, yet enough to let mortal blows be felt and to suffocate the wearer under scorching heat – are wet and slick with today’s workout, sweat staining them through and through. Dimitri stands before him, stone shocked and still, face frozen in a pathetically human display of shame and embarrassment.

“So the boar reveals himself for who he truly is,” Felix says sneeringly, the smile that twitches on his face is almost mocking, hateful, and Dimitri opens his mouth only to close it when the only sounds he can make are choked gasps, “a disgusting, filthy animal obsessed with its base desires. And what is it that you think you are doing, boar? Explain yourself.”

Despite the venom that drips from his words, he knows his place well enough; Dimitri is the prince and he serves under him, dutifully, knowing very well where he lies on the hierarchy. At any point, Dimitri can simply grasp onto his senses and realise that Felix has no right to demand this of him, that he has no right to accuse his superior and treat him as though he is an ant instead of a noble.

“I –” Dimitri stutters out, his young, atrocious face twists in confusion, uncertainty, voice stuttering in his throat before he says, “I wanted – the scents, the smell, I…”

He steps forward – one step closer to the thin line, closer to Dimitri, and the prince finally gathers himself enough to stand up straight and stare back into Felix’s eyes. He tried not to let his own expression contort too much into disgust for the prince that is so intent on stealing sweaty underthings, and he merely watches as Dimitri bends down to pick up the discarded material and throw them back into the basket.

“Were you hoping to taking in the smell of their bodies?” Felix mocks, “as though an animal looking for a mate? Something to breed, or be bred by?”

Even in the darkness of the night, he can see the way Dimitri flushes bright, hot red underneath the sliver of moonlight – and it is that sight, the redness that takes over the prince’s distinguished face, that causes something pulsing hot to shoot through Felix in a manner he wishes not to linger far too long on. His own laundry is still within his hands – sweat-stained vests from his late night training, during times when he is unable to sleep because of racing thoughts and plans of tomorrow.

A certain creature crawls underneath Felix’s own skin, something he wishes not to acknowledge – that he wants to close his eyes and pretend is not there – that slinks and crawls up to his mind and whispers, close to his ears that he can feel it reverberating in his skull, “_let us see the hog-prince in his natural habitat.”_

Perhaps it is fatigue that makes him do this. Perhaps it is something disgustingly caused only by Dimitri. Perhaps it is something else entirely. But Felix obeys that voice in his head and, for once, does not pretend it to be the illogical voice that all good folk must ignore. He takes another step closer. The line grows increasingly thin, and teeters on the edge of a thread about to snap as Dimitri does not stop him.

He raises up his hands, reveals to Dimitri his own perspiration slick garments, and he watches the way his eyes widen and sees the excitement tremble upon his lips.

The smile that curls on Felix’s face is unnaturally wide, even for him, as he holds the garment closer to Dimitri and says, mockingly kindly, “this is what you want, isn’t it?” and waits, watches the turmoil play out behind eyes bright enough to shine in the dark. If the pig is able to resist something like this, Felix thinks he may respect him more. He stares into those eyes, takes in those struggles, and his own gaze sharpens, declaring a challenge to the boar.

Dimitri meets him head on, then stares down at the sweaty vest.

It does not take long before the faux-humanity cracks and the boar reaches out, with shaky hands and waning dignity, for the moist garment so readily offered to him.

Something inside of Felix screams in victory, barbaric and joyful. He does his best to ignore it as he says, knowingly, “you always were a pig, prince.”

Dimitri stands still before him, his gloved hands fisting the cloth tight in their grip, and he struggles even further. _‘This is where he will hand it back,’ _he thinks, _‘or this is where he will finally accept himself for who he is.’ _despite all that he claims, he truly does not wish to see a spiral into the beast that Dimitri is trying to suppress, though it will be a lie for him to say he is surprised when the prince brings his vest up to his nose and takes a deep sniff.

The sound that escapes the prince’s throat is disgraceful, unbecoming of a man soon to become lord over all else, and Felix watches him curl over to try and bury his face further into his vest. He specifically noses at where his armpits will soak through, where the moistness is widespread and thicker, easier to spot, and takes deep sniffs while his eyes water –

From shame? From the acrid stench? He watches as tears slip down the sides of the prince’s face, even as he closes his eyes tight-shut and tries to ignore the world around him while he huffs and breathes in the stink of Felix’s training. Deep breaths in and sharp exhales out, mouth open a little and drooling near immediately – a subconscious act, he thinks nastily; a beastly move befitting a mounting dog than anything else.

Even as Dimitri’s face twists up in displeasure, discomfort, disgust, he still does not move his nose away from the pungent smell of his sweat. He breathes it in, as though it will be the last thing he ever breathes, as though his lungs _crave _it like they require oxygen, and Felix feels his stomach curl and twist at the thought.

“Boorish,” he repeats, “boar, hog, _pig._” he says. Dimitri opens his watery, teary eyes, soon to look bloodshed thanks to all that it leaks, and he whimpers – actually _whimpers _– at the insults. Felix sneers. “If everyone else were to learn of their prince’s true nature,” he continues on, though with no snide voice or maliciousness present, “then you and your entire family will be disgraced.

It is that declaration that finally makes Dimitri tear his wretched face away and look up at Felix, his expression unreadable. _‘It always is,’ _Felix thinks bitterly, _‘it always has been.’_

He watches Dimitri throw his vest into the laundry basket, at least having the wisdom to know better than to give it back to Felix, though he buries his face in his hands as though finally realising what it is that he has done. “Will you tell the others, then, Felix?” Dimitri asks, voice level in a way he does not expect, “will you make it known what you finally think to be true?”

Silence stretches on as words fail to slip out; nothing sits on the tip of his tongue and his mind cannot conjure anything. They both simply stare at one another, unmoving, quiet, as still as a painting of a burning forest. Then, “wash yourself up. You probably reek of sweat, and no one wishes to smell that. There is no need for evidence to be left behind. And next time you do this, do not be caught.

“Not everyone here is as willing to accept you as I am.”


End file.
